After unsettling the more faint-hearted among its constituency with its dive into dubstep on “Unsustainable,” Muse returns to its core sound with this stinging, metallic rip through what is arguably Prince’s greatest hit. It’s convincing enough to make you wish Prince would return the favour by taking a run at “Supermassive Black Hole,” whose falsetto verses sound, in retrospect, increasingly like an homage.

What, no cowbell? We wouldn’t want to listen each week to a half a dozen bands like this (or maybe even two), but the unselfconscious glee with which this new Swedish outfit embraces its glam-rock predecessors is undeniably infectious. If you’ve ever busted out an involuntary air-guitar move or two to anything by KISS, Motley Crue, Sweet or Poison, this one’s for you.

The best mash-ups not only establish a connection where none was suspected, they suggest new stylistic ground for an artist to explore, even though that aspect rarely comes to fruition. This frenetic simultaneous medley pairs Gaga’s rhythmically straightforward “Let’s Dance” with the 35-year-old Carnivale classic “Ritmo Number One” by virtuoso Brazilian percussionist da Costa. We can only hope that Gaga takes the hint.

As Aristotle once observed (or maybe it was Sting), “Music is its own reward.” That precept guides the debut double (!) album by this Toronto band, which features the songwriting talents of The Lowest of the Low’s Ron Hawkins and one-time one-man band Steve Singh. That the two discs — one devoted to rock, the other to country — never settle into bloodless genre exercises is impressive enough. That “Fire Alarm” and “A Little Rain” evoke the heydays of Squeeze and John Hiatt, respectively, should draw even casual fans to their Nov. 1 tour kick-off at the Horseshoe. (From Rome)

On which Santa Cruz-based DJ Christian Bauhofer brings the full range of dubstep’s weapons to bear on this unsuspecting ’60s classic. The incomparable harmonies are now laden — some might say burdened — with the wobble, bass dropouts, sudden tempo shifts, and cut-up vocals characteristic of the genre. The result is likely to elicit anything from admiration to outrage — a gamut that is generally indicative of something that deserves our attention.

The fitful recording career of this singing model is littered with singles that seem to be flailing about in search of a style. She might have found it. Boasting the melancholy thwack of a vintage Motels song, this wittily observed track finally delivers something worth paying attention to while Ferreira pouts expertly on YouTube. (From Ghost, out Oct. 16)

It’s unlikely anyone will ever touch Etta James’s version, but that won’t stop dozens of singers from trying. The latest contestant is this hotly-tipped-in-the-U.K. 23-year-old from Nottingham. Though Duncan doesn’t do much beyond matching James’s phrasing, that alone is no small accomplishment. It’s also a useful entry point to her original material on Devil in Me, the album debut album that continues to await a domestic release on this continent.

Hard to believe it’s been 10 years since New York post-punks Interpol released their stunning debut, Turn on the Bright Lights (though it’ll become a lot less hard to believe when an anniversary edition arrives next month). In the meantime, the band’s frontman is about to return with his second solo album. These days, Banks sounds considerably less weary since he sighed, “I know you supported me for a long time/ Somehow I’m not impressed,” a development that feels like genuine growth. (From Banks, out Oct. 23)

The story: Toronto singer-songwriter Katz is in the audience at Hansard’s show last month at the Danforth Music Hall. During the encore, Hansard, with whom he has occasionally collaborated ,asks if Katz is here, then invites him on stage to sing one of his own songs. No one in the band — which includes members of The Frames, Swell Season, and alumni of Levon Helm — has ever heard the song Katz chooses. Magic ensues.

It’s early October, the perfect time for a 13-minute song about a unicorn, rampant consumerism, Catholicism, and original sin. Six years after his first five Christmas EPs were compiled in a box set, Stevens returns with a collection of the next five. “Oh I’m hysterically American/ I’ve a credit card on my wrist/ And I have no home nor field to roam/ I will curse you with my kiss,” goes one verse, before the whole thing veers into a “Do They Know It’s Christmas”-style remake of Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” Don’t worry. It eventually makes its way to something resembling a happy ending. (From Silver & Gold: Songs For Christmas, Volumes 6–10, out Nov. 13)

Despite the ambivalence most of us feel about duets featuring dead singers, there’s no doubt that this second collaboration — the first, “Like Smoke,” surfaced last year on Winehouse’s posthumous Lioness — is enhanced by its ghostly video. Winehouse makes her presence felt in more ways than one: first as a spectral projection on a brick wall and second by proxy, in the form of a stand-in who spends most of her on-screen time looking sultry while holding a pool cue. Even when she’s not around, she leaves an impression.

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